Chattering Teeth
by Paper Plane Brigade
Summary: Sometimes, the only way you can express how you feel is through novelty gag toys. Michael/Holly oneshot. Set a year after "Employee Transfer" in S5.


**A/N:** So, I have made a comeback once again. But to me, this is a very interesting comeback, because I remember starting this fanfic back in 2009, I believe, and just finishing it tonight at 11. Phew. But to you Office fans who enjoyed the fifth season, and especially for those who enjoy the glorious pairing that is Michael/Holly, enjoy. You don't have to leave a review, but I would appreciate it if you did!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Office, Battlestar Galactica, any novelty gag toys that were mentioned, or the Boy/Girl Scouts. I do, however, own wrapping paper, ribbons, and cardboard boxes.

* * *

Halloween was officially the most depressing day of the year.

That was probably one of the weirdest sentiments that could come from the mind of Michael Scott; a man who had loved Halloween in the same way he did when he was only ten years old. One would think that when October 31st rolled around, he'd be entirely jovial, and in the opinions of a lot of his employees, far more annoying than the rest of the year (with exception of Christmas and April Fool's...and every holiday, for that matter). Well...no. Not anymore. Ever since the previous year, Halloween had turned into nothing but a day of sadness, of eating all the candy he had initially bought for the trick-or-treaters, of listening to sad songs on YouTube all day, and most notably, sighing and moaning at random intervals. Because today, just a year ago, was the day he had to leave Holly Flax in Nashua. _His _Holly.

Michael had no idea that someone who worked for HR could bring him so much _happiness_. He hated HR, especially Toby Flenderson; the mumbling, depressing, fun-sucking bane of Michael's existence. The large (and notably ugly) fallen tree in the way of his road to happiness. The storm cloud that hung over the entire office, dampening the mood until five pm. So many things were wrong with that man that Michael couldn't possibly name them all (well, he could, but doing so would take up copious amounts of his free time; precious time that was not to be wasted on Toby). Michael had been ecstatic that he was leaving – but not so happy that someone else had to come in and take his place. If anything, this new rep would be worse; twice the fun-sucker, twice the storm cloud, and twice the log. Life was just that unfair to him, it seemed. But Holly was just the opposite. From the moment she had openly insulted the nuisance – in front of him, no less – Michael knew that she was the one he had endured crazy and heartless women for. The one he'd taken Jim's _stupid_ "friends-before-lovers" advice for. _The_ one. And what did Corporate do once they discovered the regional manager's new-found bliss? They took Holly away. Away from Scranton. On Halloween. They took his great, once-in-a-lifetime happiness and gave it to AJ all the way over in Nashua. How did a fatty like him end up with someone like Holly?

_Michael?_

Pam had even told him that Holly still wanted to be with him. Why was she with AJ, then?

_Michael!_

There was a sharp poke to his back, and her rose his head off of his keyboard. His eyes were bloodshot, there was drool on his chin, and the imprint from the keys made his right cheek look like a waffle. Angela was staring expectantly at him, her hand on her small hip, her face fixed in its usual judgmental expression.

"Er, I need you to sign off on this," she said, awkwardly shoving the piece of pink paper she held at him. It had a bunch of typed words and numbers on it that Michael did not understand, and would not understand even if he was in his right state of mind. It was only the beginning of the work-day, too; since when did he have to sign things so _early_? He took the pen she offered him, mumbling nonsense, and signed his name on the paper; not even on the designated line. He dropped the pen and lowered his head back onto the desk, closing his eyes. She cautiously picked up her things, eyed him warily, and left the room. He sighed.

Michael stayed that way for another thirty minutes or so; he wasn't conscious of the time. Then, the door swung open, hitting the wall.

"I apologize for intruding on your grieving," came Dwight's annoying voice, "but there is a customer on the phone who is not only refusing to pay the shipment of reams he received that he says he did not order, but he chooses to base his highly negative opinion of Battlestar Galactica on just _one episode. _Now, I do agree, it was one of the more confusing and weak episodes, but-"

"Dwight, I don't caaaare," Michael moaned into the keyboard, sounding intoxicated. Dwight being in Michael's presence alone was making everything worse. "Just shut up and solve your own problems for once. God, you're like a broken record. _God_."

Dwight stood there for a moment, slightly offended but mostly just confused. Huffing, he walked up to Michael's desk and leaned over him. "She doesn't deserve you," he whispered, sounding like a creep. Slowly, Michael rose his head up from the desk, glowering at his immediate subordiante. He reached for the toy right next to his arm – his miniature Dunder-Mifflin truck – and threw it right at Dwight, while Dwight whined like a baby and sped out of the room. The truck broke when it hit the floor, but Michael didn't care. Instead, he just reached for his train whistle, and began to blow half-heartedly into it, producing a low-pitched, sad sound. He was so depressed that the usual innuendo that came into his head with the implication that he was _blowing _on something didn't even spark in his brain. He didn't even realize it, either.

Sighing, he put down the whistle, and got up from his chair. He walked right through the open door and into the office, the bright lights on the ceiling making his eyes hurt. Still, he put on a sad smile.

"How's everybody doing today?" he asked, his voice lacking its usual excitement. He was answered with a few people smiling at him, and he heard an 'alright' from someone. "Well, that's great..." he trailed off, looking down at his shoes. When he looked up again, he saw that everyone was focused solely on their work, and Dwight was yelling at the customer over the phone about Cylons. Michael didn't even have the drive to roll his eyes.

"Well...if anyone wants to talk...my door is always unlocked," he said, smiling a little wider. No one paid him any mind. "I'll just be sitting inside my office...alone...in my little well-lit cave..of sadness."

He was slowly walking back inside his office, and when he turned around again, he saw that some people were looking at him, but no one said anything, not even a 'huh?'. Moaning, he shut the door behind him and sat down at his desk again. He put his head in his hands, and stared at all of his desk toys. He decided to wind up his plastic teeth, and watched them move and chatter around all over his desk. After he watched it for a minute, time seemed to start to slow down, as the teeth moved around slower and slower, though it was only really in his head. All the same, it sparked a brilliant idea in his head, and as he clamped his hand down on the toy and reached for a plain piece of paper, he smiled genuinely for the first time that day.

**…...**

The next day, Holly Flax got home in the late afternoon to find an interesting-looking box waiting for her on the welcome mat. It was interesting because it was wrapped in bright green wrapping paper, but whoever wrapped it had obviously never wrapped anything else in his or her life (honestly, the job done was pathetic). The sliver ribbon that was tied around it was coming undone, and the first thought that came to Holly's mind that she could rule out either a Boy Scout or Girl Scout as the gifter. Chuckling to herself, she set down her things, sat down on the porch steps, and set the box in her lap. She eagerly slipped the ribbon off and tore at the wrapping paper, only to reveal a small white cardboard box. Never one to judge a book by its cover, she took off the lid, and rose her eyebrow at the sight.

Inside was a wind-up chattering teeth toy, in all its pink and white glory. She took it out of the box and examined it. It wasn't all that shiny, so it couldn't have been new. Who in the world would send her something like that?

"Oh," she breathed, freezing. She peered down into the box again. There was a folded up piece of plain white paper in the box as well. She snagged it out and unfolded it in desperation. There was a short note written on there in messy handwriting.

_Apparently we don't talk on the phone anymore, so maybe my teeth always clacking on your desk can make up for that. I hope you get the joke; you're the only one who ever did._

_-Michael_

_PS: It's not over._

She looked up at the roof of her house, biting her lower lip. She found herself thinking about Michael less and less as the year went on, but this...this made her feel so crappy for doing so. The note had a point too; AJ barely got her jokes most of the time.

She shoved the box and the note in her purse, and got back into her car. She needed to book it if she wanted to get to Scranton before Michael went into a sugar-induced coma. As depressed as she imagined he was, she knew that a true kid at heart – like herself – could never resist the sweet allure of candy on Halloween – a holiday she was determined to make him love again.


End file.
